Disclaimer: The name and character of Legolas belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. Except for a few elven (or magic) words, everything else is mine. Names, all of it. Ain't that cool?
A/N: Second attempt at a chapter story. Keep going, or no? It already has maybe ten or eleven chapters, so if you think I should've stopped it after this chapter, guess you're shit outta luck. Uh oh, better up the rating for that. Eh, I won't tell if you won't…
Whispers
Chapter One: In The Woods
The river flowed loudly and quickly that night as a female elf ran, clutching a baby in her arms. Her feet made no sounds as she moved along, the baby asleep and clinging to her. Her heart pounded hard within her and she felt the light of day would never touch her face again. After miles of running nonstop, weary and down-trodden, she stopped. The moon was bright and seemed to smile on the tired mother. Not long did she rest, for the sun would wake soon, and her time would be up. The world seemed to fly by as she ran in the dark. Creatures eyed her passing and looked at her receeding figure in wonderment. Ignoring them, she pressed on, her feet contouring to the ground beneath her. A large, looming castle came into view not much later. A smiled curled the elven woman's lips. Bringing the child's face to hers, she whispered,
"There you will live, my dear." The child barely stirred at these words but the woman went on. "I can give other no object other than the name I leave you with," She touched a small chain on the baby's neck. "And this: When it comes time for you to choose, choose better than I." With those last words, she fashioned a bower for the child, and left her asleep by the road. Backing away into the night, she uttered. "Sleep well, Elorelei. Remember to keep your secrets well. The world is an untrustworthy place. Trust yourself alone, my child."
A whisper in the dark,
a touch in the black of night
an eagle soaring high above
a young elf with a plight
a prince of many
a heart of steel
an unbreakable bond
a final seal...
"ELORELEI!" A strong voice rang out over the hills of the Eastern Valley. Minele Whitecloud, a female elf with pearly blue eyes and long, pale hair that stood true to the name of Whitecloud (though she was not a blood relation), called out once more for her daughter. Keen eyes scanned the edge of the dark green forest that grew so thick, it was impossible to see into it. The leaves of the trees and dark shrubs concealed all. Minele pursed her lips and cried again. "ELORELEI!"
Soon, a dark-haired elf came up from the shadows of the wood. Her hair was a fair dark brown, the color of rich earth and was wrapped up and pushed behind her in a long pony tail. Her eyes were swirled with deep, pure blue and hints of green. The elf looked in her mid teens and if you didn't understand elven aging pattern, you would never think she was around four or five hundred. She could've easily been mistaken for a wood nymph as she crept up from the shade of the trees. She, being one of the few darklings or dark-haired elves, did not look like Minele's kindred at all. "I'm coming, mother!" She answered, her feet were swift and light and she effortlessly came up the hill that rolled into the trees from their castle.
Minele frowned. This was the third time in a week that her daughter had run off into the woods after being specifically told not to. Most young elves at her age were trying to learn the poise and grace that came with being an elf. Elorelei had not even bothered to try. Her voice rang in Minele's head. "But if it comes to us naturally, why should I bother to learn it?" As smart a remark as it was, it was true.
"I'm here," Elorelei said, finally up the hill and at her mother's side. "What deadly emergency has befallen us so that we must call Elorelei away from her-" She halted and didn't say another word.
Minele shot her a look sharper than a dart. "Yes?" She was always eager to know what her daughter did when she journeyed deep into the valley, but no one knew since no one dared to follow her. Elorelei simply replied, "Forest." Then awaited her mother's instruction. "Are you packed?" Minele said finally, guiding her into the castle.
"Yes, mother." Elorelei's used her common tone, which sounded like someone was asking her if she were okay after she had been dragged miles through mud.
Minele's eyes flashed. "I don't like your tone."
Elorelei shrugged. "You never have, you never will." She responded, which was the final straw.
"Go to your Grandfather. Perhaps he will discipline you." Minele sent Elorelei off and went to the princess's room alone, to see if her things were in order.
Elorelei walked down the halls, feeling better now, though she disliked lectures from her grandfather, she always learned something or other. In her opinion there was no wiser elf anywhere in the world. Her grandfather, Lumaeus Whitecloud, knew more about the world than anyone, and was known to many as "Lumaeus the Wise." She thought back to when she was only seventy and he had told her, "Elorelei, you are not bound by anything or anyone but yourself. No one can tell you what you are except for you."
Minele was enraged that he had told an already reckless, young, independent, and on top of all that female elf such tales. She strongly believed that women elves should act lady-like. Elorelei strongly believed that her mother had come to the wrong kingdom and married the wrong prince.
Felair Whitecloud had been a good prince, and indeed, was a good king. Since his father handed the kingdom over to him he had shown great leadership and skill in being a ruler. He did, however, enjoy his share of festivities. He was light-hearted, kind, and friendly, Elorelei often called him "Felly" without reprimands when she wasn't calling him "father". He had the same balance of heart Lumaeus had and the same strength of character. If Lumaeus Whitecloud was the wisest elf Elorelei had known, her father was second wisest. He had such a confident air and voice that it was nearly impossible to believe him to be wrong. Elorelei couldn't believe that he married Minele, such a firm believer in strict rules and an all-work-no-play type of world. They seemed to be on well enough terms however, and she didn't dare ask her father such a question.
Elorelei gently pushed the door of her grandfather's room open. He was sitting with his back to the door, deep in thought.
"Grandpapa?" She called innocently. He had taught her that word after his time with mortals. He liked the ring of it he said.
Lumaeus turned around and smiled at her. "All ready to go, my dear?" He asked. His voice was thin but full of wisdom and power. During his time in the mortal realm, he had aged more than an elf should've. He now looked about fifty-six in human years. Elorelei liked the look of old on his face. It was how a grandfather should look. He had long white hair but, unlike Minele's, it was snow-white and rather shocking at first. His eyes were a deep, calm ocean blue and he had been a rather handsome elf in his age. Elorelei loved and respected him more than she thought she was capable of.
"Yes, Grandpapa," she replied, but quietly. Lumaeus looked at her sternly, but in a fond way. "Actually," She mumbled, more quiet now. "I'm not ready to go. I don't want to leave."
Lumaeus nodded wisely. "I had been thinking as much before you came here," said he, just as quiet as she had been. "You must go, I fear. It is one of those things that cannot be helped." He said sorrowfully.
Elorelei hugged him tightly. "Are you sure, Grandfather? The place sounds so dismal. Like a school."
Lumaeus gave her a surprised look. She spoke so freely of mortal things, he almost regretted telling her his many tales. "It may seem that way at first, but you will not be there long."
"I sincerely hope not. Will they try to teach me to be a lady and such?" asked Elorelei.
He smiled. "They cannot teach you anything you don't want to learn."
Another set of wise words. "I said "try", Grandpapa."
The place they spoke of was a small castle near the Southern border. It had no name but "the Castle" and young Elves called it "Ungwale Mar" or "Torture House." Elven children were sent there to learn what skills they would need as full-fledged adults and then be set on the world to either return home or seek their fortunes elsewhere. Many females were taught social skills, for they would be the voices of their men. It was of Elorelei's opinion that if men wanted voices, they should open their mouths and use their own. She told this to her father when she was younger. He had smiled. "Always the voice of reason, my little sparrow." With the time drawing nearer and nearer to her leaving, Elorelei found herself bound the forests she explored and extremely reluctant to part with them.
"So do not sit here and exchange words with this elder. Go, ride in your fields one last time, though they shan't miss you as much as I." Lumaeus embraced his granddaughter, then bid her leave.
The wind blew gently over the rushing, green fields of grass around the castle. Elorelei inhaled deeply. Slowly she sensed every blade of grass that bent with the breeze, every leaf that rustled with the wind, every bird that stretched it wings to take flight. Every living, breathing thing tightly interwove with her life force. The wind blew downwind and she felt that she could very easily be swept right into it, hence her grandfather called her "Anta na Wille", or "given to fly". Her horse, Iledian, nudged her back, eager for a race across the field. Elorelei smiled, and she swung up on her back.
"Go as lightning, if you can." Iledian could. She was a tall, strong horse, with long, striding legs. She was white with a dark mane and tail and was once wildest of her herd until she met Elorelei. They'd reached an understanding when they first met. Both reckless and longing for freedom, they were instant friends and Iledian allowed no one else to ride her unless it was Elorelei's wish. Elorelei was grateful for such a strong friendship. She'd only had one like it. All other elves her age were either boys and unwilling to accept her as a girl or girls unwilling to accept her because she was wild. Acceptance, however, was not what Elorelei's main focus in life was. She wanted to know what lay beyond her home, and if it would bring her greater happiness, if possible, than she had found in her place in the royal family.
Iledian carried her past the meadow, and down into the deep corners of the valley. Trusting her horse completely, Elorelei would let her stop when Iledian herself saw fit. The world rushed by her, a blur of green and sky blue. Elorelei watched everything come into focus as Iledian slowed to a soft trot, barely denting the grass. Elorelei plucked a fruit from a tree as she passed it and looked around her, inhaling the fragrant air.
Suddenly, the horse came to a halt. Elorelei pricked her ears and dismounted. Drawing out her bow and fitting the arrow, the wood and it's inhabitants seemed to become still, understanding she needed to hear, almost.
A leaf rustled, a twig snapped. Elorelei stopped moving. The forest waited with baited breath. Nothing stirred.
THWACK! THWACK! She had leased her arrow and drew another and fired it in sucession, then heard a small start of surprise. Elorelei drew out her knife and walked into the brush. She found a young elf that didn't look much older than she was, though he may have been. He was pinned to the trunk of a tree, two arrows through the cloth that covered his shoulders. He himself was not hurt, but Elorelei could change that very quickly. She put the blade of her knife against his throat.
"Who are you and what gave you the bright idea to spy on me?" She snarled.
The elf's hair was long but held together by a few choice braids, he was a little bit taller than Elorelei, but not much, he was still growing. He had strong blue-grey eyes, like steel, that were right now filled with anger and fear.
"I was here first." said the elf. Elorelei didn't like that answer.
"Not what I asked you." She stated simply, and waited for his compliance, keeping the knife rock steady against his soft skin.
"I am Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of West Valley, and I just wanted to see who had come so deep into the valley on horseback." Legolas tossed a look at Iledian, who was staring at him down with her fiery brown eyes.
Elorelei removed the knife and the arrows and put them carefully away. "I am Elorelei Whitecloud, Princess of East Valley, and I don't like being watched by weird princes who leave their boundaries." She snapped, jumping on Iledian and not looking at Legolas again.
"Then why don't you go home and practice making tea or something princess's should be doing instead of coming out here and bothering me." Legolas swore under his breath as she rode off, hoping he would never have to deal with such a girl again. He gave a sudden jerk and fell backwards as another arrow whizzed past his face and thunked into a tree trunk. A piece of paper fluttered down to his feet. Picking it up, he found it read: "I hate tea, you sexist idiot." Legolas wondered faintly what a "sexist" meant but he knew it was not a flattering name, whatever it was.
